


Someday

by thomasjeffersonsmacaroni



Series: The Other 51 [6]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Past Character Death, Romeo and Juliet AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-06 23:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8774497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomasjeffersonsmacaroni/pseuds/thomasjeffersonsmacaroni
Summary: Polly grieves.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Alike in Dignity, my Philtheo Romeo and Juliet AU of pain.  
> This was a bit harder because I didn't have a plot to base it on, but it was fun.

_Maybe someday, there will be another Philip Hamilton and another Theodosia Burr, and they will fall in love, and their love will not be rejected or ignored._

That was the mantra that kept Polly Jefferson going, the thought that took her by the hand and picked her up whenever she was close to falling down, that led her to the streets to help with the monument and the cleanup of the memorial park. And it was the thought that stood by her as she stood by the graves of her best friend and her husband, tightening the black shawl around her shoulders in the autumn chill.

They were buried side by side. Polly didn't know whether to be happy or sad.

_Maybe someday..._

* * *

Theo had been one of the only playmates her age in the Burr mansion, so Polly in her grief was forced to go to adults. They were good, even though they didn't understand. They helped her.

But the only person that Polly wanted to go to after the death of Theodosia Burr was Theodosia Burr. Everyone else was just second best.

Even Georges Washington de Lafayette and Frances Laurens, whom Polly found one evening sitting on the bench in front of the gravestone as she came in with two bouquets of flowers.

Frances moved to the left a little bit, and Georges followed her lead, so that there was room for Polly to sit down. Then Georges took one of Polly's free hands, and Frances took the other one and squeezed it tightly.

Polly dropped her head down to her knees, shutting her eyelids tightly to force out the tears. They fell onto her black dress and bled through it, creating spots that were even darker.

Frances and Georges continued being by her side. That was all that happened, and that, apparently, was all that needed to.

* * *

_Maybe someday..._

Polly kept seeing Georges and Frances. They were always there, together, tending to the garden, or at the gravestones, or walking through the park leaning on each other. She was too timid to approach them alone, but when they came to her on their own, she did not protest. She liked their comfort.

They exchanged no words. There was nothing that could fit the situation, and Polly knew that all three of them knew that.

* * *

One day, there was a knocking on her door. It was one of the older servants.

"There's someone here for you, Polly," she said. "A young girl."

Polly so rarely got visits that she used to skate down the railing, laughing hysterically and letting all of her fabrics fly without a single care. But now, she merely put on a black bonnet to go with her black dress and walked down while looking at her feet and tracing a hand along the railing's wood.

_I am an old, withering witch, and Theo was my potion of youth._

It was Frances Laurens. She was alone, and she was holding a big notebook under one arm.

"Georges went back to France with his father," she said by way of explanation. "Will you walk with me?"

"Of course."

Polly stepped out of the house and stood by Frances's side. She was much taller than the other girl. She was much taller than most people.

"I'm writing about Philip in this notebook," Frances told her. "And then I'm going to put it on his gravestone. Georges and I were going to do it together, but then he had to leave."

"I can help you," Polly offered. "I mean, I didn't know him as well as you, but..." She trailed off.

"You can write about Theo, too," Frances said. "And then we can put it on both of their graves."

Polly smiled down at her, and Frances smiled back.

* * *

The rest of the day was spent writing and remembering.

"Pip was such a ray of sunshine," Frances spoke aloud as she scribbled with a bittersweet smile. "He was always so full of life, so full of happiness. When I got word that he was dead, I just couldn't believe it at first. He was one of those people that you can't imagine as anything else but bouncing around  _alive._ "

"Theo was the same," Polly said. "Always talking about something or other, always gossiping to me or reading or doing science. She  _loved_ science. And poetry, too."

"Philip loved poetry. Did you know that he tried to seduce me with it once? If I'd been interested, I would have said yes."

Frances smiled, but then tears started pooling in her eyes. Polly wrapped an arm around her and leaned into her, and after a moment's hesitation, Frances rested her forehead on Polly's shoulder and sobbed into her chest.

* * *

The notebook traded hands every night, and although Polly didn't read Frances's memoirs about Philip for fear of there being personal information that she was afraid to reveal, she poured into her own pages everything that she knew about her friend, which, with them knowing each other since the beginning of their lives, was everything that existed.

How she would tuck her long hair away before she started writing about whatever scientific experiment she was working on, before she got a haircut and didn't have to deal with that problem anymore. How much she smiled, dancing through the room, whenever she got a new poem from Pip. Polly wrote about her quick wit, her gentle smile, how much she seemed to feel and feel and feel more than anyone should even be physically able to, both for herself and for her friends and loved ones, and when after six months she wrote the last word on the last page, she had drawn a picture of Theodosia Burr.

Somewhere in those pages, she was alive. Somewhere in those pages, she was dancing with Philip, she was beaming as he kissed her on the cheek, she was holding her hand out and pulling Polly onto the dance floor against her own will. Somewhere in there, everyone was laughing.

Somewhere in there, Polly herself was smiling.

Polly placed a hand to her heart; it was pulsing, glowing like she had never felt it glow before. Somewhere inside her, she was reliving her entire life, from the moment she was held in her mother's arms and first saw Theodosia crawling across the room, to all the ways that her best friend had made her life infinitely and irreversibly better, to when she first ran into the Burr family crypt and saw her bleeding with Philip Hamilton's dagger in her hand.

Yes, she was dead. But the picture that Polly had painted, the picture that Frances has painted, was alive, would be alive as long as there was someone who kept her flame. And, more importantly, the brushstrokes that Theo had left on the hearts and souls of everyone who knew her would never, ever, ever disappear.

* * *

Polly told all of this to Frances one night, while they were braiding each other's hair, and Frances was talking about the vow of chastity that she had been planning before the suicides. When Polly finished her thoughts, Frances merely nodded in agreement.

"We should put our book near the memorial," Frances said after a moment's thought. "So that everyone else can remember Philip and Theo, too."

Polly nodded in agreement. "That's a good idea."

After that, there was silence, but it was a comforting silence, and somewhere in the middle of it, Frances told Polly that she wasn't going to take the vow of chastity.

"I don't think I can do it, you know?" she asked. They were lying on the bed and holding hands. "I originally only wanted to because I don't like guys, and I didn't think that there were any other options than chastity, but I talked to my dad about it, and he said that that wasn't the only option, and that I shouldn't feel ashamed of who I am. Not that I was, but..."

Polly thought about how Frances liked girls, and how unsure she herself was about whom she liked. So she nodded.

"You shouldn't feel ashamed. And I'm glad you're not taking a vow of chastity. They probably wouldn't let you finish our project."

"That's true," Frances smiled. "Our project is the most important thing to me. I'm glad I get to finish it."

"So am I."

* * *

 

Another six months later, the memorial was officially completed, and Frances and Polly were honored by Prince Washington for being the principal contributors to its creation. Polly brought the notebook and placed it in front of the statue of the couple, and Frances for some reason brought flowers. She didn't reveal why until after it was finished, and everyone was gone but the two.

"Polly, I've really started to like you as we've become friends and worked on this together. As more than a friend. So I just wanted to ask you...will you go on a date with me?"

"Yes," Polly whispered, and there was no doubt in her voice as she accepted the bouquet. Then she took Frances's hand, and they looked around at the Philip and Theodosia Memorial Park that they had helped create, and Polly was happier than she had ever been in her life, ever.

Because the someday that she had dreamed of, the someday when Philip and Theo were memorialized and the Hamiltons and Burrs were officially at peace, was finally here. And the other someday that she had dreamed of, the someday where Philip and Theo's situation was repeated but their fate wasn't, may not have arrived yet, but it was close enough.

_Philip, Theo, I know you're watching us. I hope you're proud of me, just like I was of you._

"We told your story," she said aloud. "Thank you for giving it to us."

**Author's Note:**

> Listen I built this rarepair boat with my own two hands and I am simultaneously the captain, the first mate, the second mate, the cook, AND the passenger so I think I have the right to pick the ship name  
> It's Franpolly  
> Why does AO3 say her nickname was Maria I don't like this


End file.
